I'm not a robot
by Amorette13
Summary: A young woman has a few run-ins with our favourite High-Functioning-Sociopath that eventually turn into more. I suck at summaries, but rated M for future smut and language. Please rate and be kind as it's my first time uploading a fic (:
1. Chapter 1

"Morning Jess," Bill greeted me as I held up my ID for him, the same as I did every morning.

I smiled," Hey Bill, how's Leo doing?"

"Results day today, he's nervous and I'm waiting for the call," he grimaced.

"Fingers crossed," I replied as I carried on into the camp and headed for my building.

I swiped my ID again to get access and made my way towards my lab, heels clicking on the freshly mopped floor. Once inside the changing room I threw away my coffee cup, and changed out of my thick black coat into the white labcoat, tying my hair up with chopsticks, before washing up. Another ID swipe and I entered the cool damp air of my laboratory.

"J.K," a male voice greeted me from across the lab.

"Mornin'" I greeted Eathan with a nod, "you're early"

He stuck his head back out of the incubator and smirked(at least I saw him smirking in his eyes), "Didn't want you to miss me too much babe."

It's a running joke between us to call eachother by couply petnames ever since college. We're friends, that's all, but it could get confusing for anyone who doesn't know that. His wife understands, thankfully.

"Aww babycakes you're so thoughtful," I crossed my eyes at him.

I went to the autoclave and emptied it into the sterile glass pantry, then picked up my lab book and glasses to go and check on my samples. I'm working on research into prion disorders, the main reason I got into disease control in the first place. But that's more of a personal interest, and I quickly moved onto the work strains of more boring things like swine flu.

I went over to Eathan and leaned over his shoulder, "What'cha cookin'?"

"_Coxiella burnetii,_ I know how you love your Q-Fever with your coffee," he cocked an eyebrow at me.

"Nice, but why? The US shut down its general use in 1969," I cocked my head to the side.

"Five patients in the last 6 hours. Fifteen more suspected, two dead," he replied gravely, all joking gone from his tone.

"Where?" I asked, trying to remember the cure but coming up blank.

"London, the patients are in Charring, the corpses in St. Barts," he answered, "We need samples from them all."

I chewed my lip, "You want me to go or?"

"You know I hate hospitals," he looked me in the eye and I nodded, putting a gloved hand on his arm before turning to gather the equipment I would need.

Eathan lost a son, after a long and hard battle with Leukaemia, and while he can work in the labs he can't bear to be in hospitals, especially near the dead.

"I'll see you later then I guess," I turned to him and smiled though he couldn't see it under my mask.

"Part timer," he scoffed, "You only just got here."

"Oh shut up you," I blew a kiss as I left the lab.

I peeled off my PPE, then washed up again before getting my coat back on and leaving the building with my kit in hand. I half-hurried to my car then drove to the closest tube station.


	2. Chapter 2

I left Charring Cross Hospital feeling well and truly awful. It's all well and good analysing a sample in a lab but when I have to go out and take it from the patient I get to know them and then I start to feel bad for them. One of the patients is a 9 year old girl. I felt a lump rise in my throat, knowing she was already in the advanced stages of the infection and didn't have long. Her tiny body never stood a chance.

On the tube to Barts I fiddled with stray bits of my hair, before pulling out the charts from the older patients and trying to analyse them. My mind was elsewhere though, I couldn't stop thinking of that scared little girl who thought I was the magic doctor that would make everything ok. I took a deep breath and jumped when I realised it was my stop.

I hurried through the crowd then stopped and hovered outside a Starbucks for all of a moment before deciding I needed it. With a venti in my hand I felt ready to face Barts and headed there. Just as I got to the door my phone rang and I stopped to grab it out of my coat which was hanging over the handle of my briefcase. A large weight collided with me and I let out an 'oof' as it knocked me reeling to the side.

A hand reached out and grasped my shoulder to steady me and I looked up, "Sorry, I'm so clumsy sometimes!"

The mans ice blue eyes regarded me coolly, "Yes I can tell, I wasn't looking, my apologies" he reached into his pocket and held out a handkerchief to me.

"Here, you have coffee on your blouse," he said in monotone.

I took it gratefully, "Thank you," and smiled at him, then blushed when I realised that if there was coffee on my blouse it was most likely see through.

If it was he didn't seem to notice and walked off leaving me standing there awkwardly without a word. I sighed and rubbed at my blouse, but it was ruined. My coat went back on to try and cover up the stain. I glanced at the now brown handkerchief in my hand, it was embroidered with the initials SH, before stuffing it in my pocket and carrying on into Barts, dropping my now empty coffee cup into the bin.

"Hi Carol," I said brightly as I strode through the reception, knowing exactly where I was going.

"Dr Townshend," the receptionist called after me.

I knocked on the door of the morgue and waited, before long a familiar and cheerful face appeared when the door opened.

"Afternoon Molly," I smiled and she ushered me in.

"Hi again Jess, you must be here for the CB deaths," she said in her own bright way.

I nodded and put my kit down before getting washed up and going to examine the bodies with Molly.

As I left Barts I pulled out my phone and called the lab.

"What's up honeybunch?"

"Hey, just left Barts, good news is twelve of those suspected cases aren't CB," I said.

"Bad news?" he asked.

"From what I can see, this isn't like the old CB, someones been modifying it," I answered with a sigh.

Eathan groaned, "Ok, get the samples back here and we'll deal with it from there."


	3. Chapter 3

I find myself on the tube again, to Barts. Again. A localised outbreak of TB has my bosses worried, and of course Eathan won't come to the hospital, so I have to go. The train pulls into my stop and I push my way through the crowd and hurry to the exit.

"Afternoon Carol" I call as I rush through to the morgue and hear a muffled greeting from her.

Without bothering to knock I push through the door into Molly's lab. She's leaning against a table and chewing her lip, looking nervous beyond belief.

"Hey Molly," I say loudly and she jumps out of her skin.

She looks at me unfocussed for a second then dithers into life, "Oh hey Jess, sorry I was miles away."

"So I see," I tease, "I'm here about your TB bodies?"

Her eyes search my face for a good few moments and then recognition flashes across her eyes, "Oh my gosh yes of course!" And she dashes off into the morgue, beckoning me to follow her. I put on a labcoat and throw my hair up into a ponytail then go into the morgue behind her.

I stopped in my tracks at the sight of a tall man, prodding a body with an umbrella. He seemed absorbed in his poking and made no movement to greet either of us. I stood and watched him for a while, noting that his pokes were not as random as they first seemed.

"They're over here, Jess," Molly called from across the room and I came back to reality, striding over to the five corpses laid out under sheets beside Molly.

"What is he doing?" I asked, gesturing towards the strange man.

She looked over at him, then back to me with a flush of pink to her cheeks, "Oh that's just Sherlock, he comes in to do experiments every so often."

Interesting name. I cocked an eyebrow, "Experiments? Is he

a doctor?"

"No, just a detective," she replied cautiously.

"Oh so he's with the police," I turned my attention to the first corpse, a young woman of 23.

"No, not exactly, more of a contractor," Molly said.

I opened my mouth to ask her to elaborate, but a smooth cold voice cut me off.

"I'm a consulting detective. When the police are lost, they call me. Which is always." He didn't even turn to look at us.

"Never heard of one," I replied as dismissively as he had spoken to us, focussing on my third corpse, a 65 year old man but keeping one eye on him.

He looked up then, "Because I'm the only one."

When I looked up properly he was half-smirking-half-smiling, "You must be special then."

"I am. And you're a disease control specialist at Porton Down, based here in London and your favourite coffee is anything from Starbucks." He stared intently at his umbrella tip.

I opened my mouth to question him but it was dry and wordless.

Molly laid a sympathetic hand on my arm, "He does that."

"How did you know?," I asked, moving onto my last body to inspect.

"You're here looking at TB victims, I know for a fact the top brass at Porton are interested in that but it's a good hour and half commute from there to here and I imagine you come here quite regularly which means you probably live somewhere on the outskirts of London, although you're not from here," he still didn't look at me.

"And the coffee?" I asked, now openly staring at this strange man.

He looked up at me with a small glint in his eye, "Just an educated guess based on your past."

"Molly, I need photos of the bruises, text them to me," he turned on his heel and called over his shoulder, leaving the morgue.

I stood, stunned and confused. Molly just dithered, "He's amazing isn't he?"

"That's one word for it," I replied as I sliced out a nice sample of the dead lady's lung.


	4. Chapter 4

I swatted my arm at the irate buzzing beside my head. It didn't stop so I sat up to shoo the fly away before realising it was my phone.

"Townshend," I snapped into the phone.

"Sorry to call so late Jess, I just didn't know who else could help," came back a familiar and tired voice.

I sighed and pushed the nest of my hair out of my face, "What's up G?"

"We've got three bodies, all in one place with blood poured out of everywhere."

"Why are you calling me?" I asked in slight annoyance.

He inhaled deeply, "There's some kind of diffuser in the room, a disease bomb if you like. I think it's a bioweapon."

I sat bolt upright, "Secure the room, hazmat suits only and anyone who has been in there unprotected needs to be quarantined immediately. Give me the address and I'll be there," I dragged myself out of bed and began pulling on clothes.

Dragging a comb through my hair and then putting it up with a clip I took down the address from Greg and scooped up my home-kit. I rushed out of the house and into my car before speeding off in the direction of the scene.

When I arrived there was a white tent in front of the entrance and two ambulances were leaving with what I assumed to be quarantined people. I pulled out my ID in case but was stopped by a woman with a large mass of curly dark hair.

"No press. No comment."

"Officer Jessica Townshend here to see D.I. Lestrade," I narrowed my eyes at her and waved the ID in her face.

She rolled her eyes and got out a radio and called for Greg to come out to get me. I tapped my foot impatiently, the womans attitude getting up my nose.

"Jess," Greg jogged out in his hazmat and I nodded back a greeting.

"Did you let my sergeant know?" I asked.

"Of course I did, do you think I'm an idiot?" he replied and ushered me into the airtight white tent.

I pulled on a suit over my jeans and blouse and he zipped a helmet to the hazmat.

"Who's in here now?" I asked him.

He looked at me, "Anderson."

"Really? You honestly let that moron in here. Keep him out of my way G," I groaned.

"He's our forensic, I can't move him around for you," he shrugged.

We made our way through into the living room of the house where the bodies lay sprawled. Blood had seeped into the carpet, cushions, curtains and pretty much anything absorbent. There were huge pools of red around each victim. In the middle of the room stood what looked like a homemade dehumidifier.

I bent next to the closest victim, "Can I move them?"

Greg nodded and I pulled on her shoulder until she turned over. Petechial haemorrhage, her lips looked almost white and dried blood crusted from her mouth, nose and ears. I moved further down her body and saw that the beds of her nails were crusted with dry blood. I swabbed the blood, took a sample of the skin from inside her nostril and moved onto the other bodies. Each had the same symptoms and I did the same to them all. I looked at the diffuser.

"Why Jessica that suit is rather flattering," a voice came from behind me.

"Do me a favour and back off, Anderson before I feel too tempted to rip that helmet off," I snapped, remembering how awful he'd been to work with years ago.

A dark chuckle came from behind him and another figure stood in a hazmat.

"Christ G, how many people are you parading through here? There's a serious disease in the air and you're just letting anyone come in?" I rounded on Greg.

Before he could answer, the tall stranger shoved past Anderson and came to stand near me.

"Anderson, leave, no one wants your opinion," the stranger snapped in a voice I vaguely recognised, and to my disbelief Anderson threw his hands up and actually left.

"I'm done here Greg, can you have everything sent to Barts for me to look into," I didn't wait for his answer and just left.

I disinfected in the tent and went to sit in my car, where I considered how rude I'd been to everyone. It was only because I was tired, I groaned. G has been my friend since a case years ago involving a rare disease I forget the name of now. Resolving to text Greg and apologise for the way I treated him, I drove home to try and get some sleep before I went to Barts to look into this properly.


	5. Chapter 5

The warm water of my shower did wonders to wash away the early morning call out. I lathered my hair and hummed as I rinsed it before climbing out of the bath tub and wrapping myself in a towel and my hair in another. I flicked the radio on in my bedroom and got dressed in a grey pencil skirt and blue blouse with white collar and cuffs. After applying a small amount of makeup and putting my thick chocolate hair up in a loose ponytail over my shoulder, I sprayed with perfume and stepped into some moderately high heels.

I drove to the train station and got the tube to Barts, where I greeted Carol as always and headed straight for the labs this time. Molly was waiting for me, her usual bright and sunny self.

"You look tired." She stated as I sat down and turned to look at her.

"Charming," I replied more sharply than I'd meant to.

She blushed and stammered, "I didn't mean you look rough or anything!"

I shook my head, "Sorry Molly, I'm just tired from this morning. I'm not used to early hours callouts. So are the samples here?"

"Yeah, I already took a look, they look fairly straight forward," she replied, gesturing towards a microscope.

"OK, I'll get stuck in then," I sighed and shrugged off my coat, replacing it with a labcoat.

I was fully absorbed in my work and didn't notice that someone had joined me in the lab until they sat down beside me.

"Jesus," I cried and startled, "Where did you come from?"

Blue eyes peered back at me curiously, "I've been in here for over an hour, how have you not noticed?"

"You're very quiet," I stood up and went to collect another sample.

"Any ideas on the disease then?" he asked coolly.

I nodded, "Viral hemorrhagic fever, just need to find out which one. How do you know about that?"

"I was there last night," he replied, "My god you're not very observant are you?"

"You must have been in a Hazmat suit," I reminded him, "Everyone looks the same in hazmat suits."

He looked at me directly in the eye, "And yet I knew it was you and you didn't know it was me."

"Sherlock, isn't it?" I asked, sick of this pointless conversation.

"Sherlock Holmes."

"Dr. Jessica Townshend," I held out a hand which he shook firmly.

He turned away then and focussed on his own experiments. Wow, nice social graces there, I thought to myself as I began to flame an inoculation loop.

"So why were you there last night?" I asked when the awkward silence got too much.

"Like I said, when the police are out of their depth, they call me," he didn't look up from his micropipette.

I regarded him while he was distracted. Tall, very tall, with a slightly horsey but handsome face. Sky high cheekbones and ice blue eyes, with a mop of curly black hair. I had to admit, he was nothing like my usual type but he was surely attractive. I could see why Molly liked him, but not quite why she melted at the mere mention of him.

He turned to look at me suddenly, "What?"

Pink crept into my cheeks at being caught, "You look familiar," I scrambled for a response.

"You don't remember?" he asked, looking only mildly interested.

I shook my head, "No, should I?"

"I don't see the point in reminding you of every detail of your life. Especially the boring ones," he replied, still looking at me.

"Tell me, is it Derbyshire you're from originally?" his eyes were darting all over me now.

I nodded, now reduced to gestures under his scrutiny. He has a very domineering presence.

He gave the triumphant smile of a child who finished a difficult word search, "Thought so. Why move to London? Your ex-boyfriend?"

"Do you internet stalk everyone or just random people in labs with you?" I asked.

"I deduce, based on clear evidence. You're a homebird, you wouldn't have moved away for anything other than the chance at starting the family you want, or perhaps wanted, so badly. But why here?"

"He got into the helicopter pilot training at MiddleWallop. I wanted to be in disease control and it just so happened there was a job opening down in Porton Down, 20 minutes away from Middlewallop."

"You're close to your family. Being far away from them drove you apart."

"No, his suicide drove us apart." I replied shortly.

His eyes widened, "Suicide, I didn't see that coming."

I looked at him closely, he didn't have that pitying look in his eyes. He just looked disappointed at not guessing that too. It was comforting to not have to see that stupid sympathetic look. My mourning is over, I am ok, I don't need the pity. It was three years ago.

We went back to working in silence for a while, but it was driving me mad. I got up, shrugged off my labcoat and went to grab my jacket and handbag.

"Lunch?" Sherlock asked.

I turned to look at him, "Yeah, I missed breakfast."

"Me too," he said and stood up, straightening his jacket, "I'll join you."

"Uhh…" I flicked my hair out of my face, "Sure."

We washed up then he strode out of the lab, with me trailing behind feeling very confused as to why he was joining me.

"I'm going to lunch with you to discuss this case of yours." He said over his shoulder as if he could read my mind.

"It's not my case, it's Gregs." I reminded him, hurrying my steps to catch up to his great loping strides.

"Lestrade doesn't have cases, he has issues he needs me to clear up for him, one of which he's dragged you into."

When we left the building he held up a hand and a black cab appeared almost out of thin air. He held the door open for me and I considered that he must have been raised to be a gentleman, at least in part.

"Where are we going?" I asked.

"Anywhere that serves food," Sherlock spoke to the driver rather than me.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: I'm amazed by the amount of followers this has, being my first fic and all :) I would really love to hear from you guys, I'm open to constructive criticism but please be gentle. Hope you enjoy this chapter!**

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The ride to wherever the hell we were going was pretty long, and quiet. I tapped my thumbnail against my tooth while Sherlock texted almost frantically.

"Speedy's sandwiches, Baker Street," the cabbie, a funny man in a flat cap, turned and before I could get my purse Sherlock had paid him.

He stepped out and I followed, feeling ungainly next to him with his fluid movements, and we headed in.

"You know this place?" I asked as we stepped into the small sandwich shop. It was cramped, but cosy, with a few tables scattered in the front and a counter in the back.

Sherlock looked at me for a second, "No, worked in the area though. Is it ok?"

I nodded, "It's fine, looks nice."

We went straight to the counter. After looking at the boards for a moment I ordered a bacon, brie and cranberry baguette and Sherlock had the tuna mayonnaise.

"Go and grab a table and we'll be right over with your lunch," the smiling lady behind the counter said.

Sherlock made his way towards a table and I awkwardly sat across from him.

"So…" I said after a long silence with him tapping away on his phone.

"Why did your boyfriend hang himself?" he asked, looking up at me suddenly.

I sat back in my seat, surprised by his openness. "He battled depression for a long time. It was hard to keep him alive most days when we lived together, but when he was alone he just had episode after episode until his dad died. That night he hung himself."

The last sentence came out just as the woman put our plates in front of us. She raised her eyebrows and I felt myself go pink.

"Why are you interested?" I asked him as I lifted half of the sandwich to my mouth.

He nibbled at his, "I'm interested in all mysteries, and I couldn't figure out _why_ he would kill himself. Sometimes it's easier just to ask."

"Wait, you asked why he hung himself. I never told you how he did it," I said, a familiar pang of pain and guilt going through me when I said the words.

"It was obvious how he did it," he looked at me like I was genuinely stupid for not knowing that.

"What is it like in that brain of yours?" I asked, more to myself than anything else.

He kept his gaze on mine, "I ask myself the same question about everyone. Must be boring."

I snorted, "Yeah. You could call it that."

"Your case then," he switched the topic of conversation.

"Gregs case," I reminded him again, "I don't have cases, I help occasionally."

He scrunched up his nose, "THE case then. Thoughts?"

"It's _Arenaviridae, _most likely Lassa Fever. What I don't understand is how or why," I mused as I ate my surprisingly tasty lunch.

"That's always been my job," Sherlock looked at me with the hint of a smirk.

"Are you always this cocky?"

"Cocky?"

"Yes, cocky."

"I know I'm always right, about almost everything, does that make me cocky?" he looked genuinely perplexed.

"That makes you exceptionally cocky."

"Then I'm cocky, but either way we know what, now we need why, who and how."

"It's not something a biology student could just cook up," I pointed out.

He nodded, "We're looking for a doctor of biology, at least," and pulled his phone out again, texting rapidly.

I looked at him with an eyebrow cocked, "Is that phone surgically attached to you?"

"No, but that would be helpful," he didn't look up.

"Why are you always on it?"

"I prefer to text, it's quick," he replied.

I shrugged and carried on with my lunch, not focussing. My job on this case was done, I found out what disease was being used, so why should I be involved in this, which was what I asked Sherlock next.

"I like to have someone to bounce ideas off. Especially someone with expertise in the field. And my skull attracts too much attention in public," his ice blue eyes ran over my face, taking in all details.

"What's wrong with your skull?" I asked, now looking at his head questioningly.

He gave a twist of the mouth, almost like a smile, "Not my own personal skull. One I keep at home for chats."

I opened my mouth to ask about it but he jumped up suddenly, tightening his coat and tapping on his phone more frantically than before.

"I have to go, case," he said without looking at me and hurried out of the door.

The whole café turned to stare at me, like he'd stormed out over something I'd said. I watched after him in sheer dumb confusion. How can one person be so rude, and yet you want to spend more time with them to try and understand the way they are? Deciding it was probably best to just forget about it, I went back to my lunch, looking distastefully at his half-finished tuna. I hate tuna.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: So I'm going on holiday on saturday and won't have much access to internet, which is why I'm hurrying out updates. I'll keep writing while I'm away and update whenever I can get a bit of WiFi. Thanks for the review :) Would love to see some more reviews, it helps with motivation, but to be fair this story is flowing pretty easily at the minute.**

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Eathan waved his hand in my face, "Earth to Jess?"

I shook myself out of my thoughts, "Sorry, what's up?"

"What do you want to drink?" Jake asked.

"Um…dry white please," I answered before turning to look at Eathan.

He raised his eyebrows and as soon as Jake had gone to the bar he asked, " What's up with you? You keep going miles away, you have been for weeks."

"Sorry, I just keep thinking about that case with the VHF," I replied, lying. I wasn't thinking about the case I'd been on with Greg, but about Sherlock. That strange, aloof man had me wondering all sorts of questions and I just couldn't seem to get him out of my head.

Eathan narrowed his eyes at me, "It's a guy. Who is he?"

"There is a guy, but it's nothing like that. He's just really weird and I can't figure him out."

"Weird like kinky or?"

"Eww babycakes, just weird full stop. You'd have to meet him to understand."

Jake returned with the drinks and we all started chattering about work, soon joined by Eathans wife Lucy, and a few other people from work. Lucy and I get on enough. We'll never be best friends but she's married to my best friend in the world and she was good to me over Bens death so we're always friendly and chatty.

My phone vibrated on the table, everyone stopped talking for a second, wondering who it could be since the whole group was here, then carried on. I picked it up and read the text.

"Meet me. SH" the text read and I exhaled sharply.

I tapped out a reply, "how did you get this number?"

The answer was almost instantaneous, "not important or difficult. Are you coming? SH"

"Why?" I answered.

"Case, your input would be appreciated. SH."

"Where"

"Teashop on Shirley Street, called Rosies. SH."

"Give me half an hour," I replied then looked up to see people looking at me with interest.

"I have to go," I said regretfully, "there's a case they need me involved in."

"A case of the hots for a weird guy?" Eathan teased me.

"You're the only weird guy in my life, dear," I slapped his shoulder and said goodbye to everyone before heading outside and hailing a taxi.

On the way there I checked my makeup, more as a reflex than anything else. I looked down and realised I was wearing a lowcut silk top, tight jeans and heels, not exactly the attire for casework but then again we were meeting in a tea shop.

When the cab arrived I paid and got out. Sherlock was stood outside, his eyes darting everywhere, as they always are. They zeroed in on me and he nodded in greeting. He was smoking. I'd never noticed he smoked before.

I stood and waited for him to finish his cigarette.

"It's freezing," I noted and headed inside.

He followed me without a word and we ordered. I had a coffee to clear my head from the drinks with my work friends. He had a pot of tea.

We sat at a table and I took off my coat. His eyes flickered to my cleavage, which made me raise my eyebrows. I didn't think of all people he'd notice my large chest, but then I guess all men are the same in some ways.

His eyes came to my face then, "What do you know about Ricin?"

I shrugged, "Most things I imagine, why?"

"A clients husband was poisoned with it," he poured his tea.

"Poison is a womans weapon, it's said," I replied.

He nodded, "It was the wife."

"But why would she call you in to investigate if she did it?" I was confused.

"Ultimate show of innocence, she doesn't know who I am, and that I will always get the truth," he smirked.

"Cocky again," I said, "How do you know it was her?"

"Just got a text about that actually," he showed me his phone.

_She's pregnant_ was all the text said.

"That's no reason to kill her husband."

"It is if the baby weren't his," he countered.

"How could you know it isn't at this stage?" I stirred two sugars into my coffee.

He drank his tea, "They slept in different beds. I saw it at the house. They have never shared a bed. I don't think she ever slept with him. She didn't show the intimacy in her grief that I would expect from a couple who had slept together."

"A modern day Severine," I remarked, drinking my coffee.

His eyebrows quirked, "What?"

"Severine, the protagonist of Belle Du Jour? Prude wife who never slept with her husband who was very understanding of course, but she secretly wanted depravity and became a prostitute," I answered.

"I don't think she was a prostitute," he said.

"Not saying she was, just saying that she had been sleeping with someone else."

"That much was obvious from the fact she's pregnant and her husband is not the father."

I groaned, "I'm aware of that."

We sat, not speaking and drank our drinks. I looked at him coolly while he assessed the room. Those eyes are quite something. Eathans words came back to me and I sighed, maybe I was getting some kind of attraction to Sherlock. Oh god if I end up like Molly I will pitch myself of Tower Bridge.

"Does being around me irritate you?" he asked, another flash of his eyes at my cleavage.

I shook my head, "No, but you can be agitating, why?"

"You seem annoyed, your face is always slightly red when you're with me and I wonder if it's irritation."

I blushed then, had I been blushing this whole time?

"No, I'm not irritated, I just feel like a replacement for your skull right now."

"You are. The real question is why you left your friends to come and see me instead."

"Charming. Because you said it was case related."

"In a tea shop, you didn't honestly believe it was an actual case I'd called you for?"

"I did. I thought it was strange, but you're strange so…"

"You calling someone strange is interesting, from someone as odd as yourself."

"Odd?" I asked, my nostrils flaring.

He nodded, "You love your friends dearly but you make no effort with them. You dislike or disapprove of your best friends wife, but not out of jealousy. Your relationship with your father is the most interesting one."

I narrowed my eyes and stood up, "Sherlock."

"Yes?" he looked up at me.

"Piss off." I left the tea shop and called a cab, texting Eathan to see if they were still out.


	8. Chapter 8

AN: Sorry it's taken so long to update, I was on holiday but now I'm all settled back at uni so I'm writing again :) Thanks for the reviews and subscribes! I loooove to hear from you!

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"Piss off." She snapped as she stormed out of the teashop.

I watched after her, ignoring the bemused glances from the other people in the roo. What was that in aid of? I thought, shaking my head. I got to my feet and paid the girl at the counter, who looked at me with pity, which I curled my lip at.

Outside I lit a cigarette, then sighed in irritation and lit another, puffing on both deeply. I ran over the conversation in my head, trying to pinpoint what had caused her to flounce off like that. The memory of her big brown eyes narrowing in anger made me huff and light another cigarette to join the other two.

Maybe it was the comment about her best friend's wife? Was it jealousy, and I was wrong? I never question my reasoning but that exit was so uncalled for. Or maybe her father? His drinking problem? Resolving to figure out if it was the first idea, I stubbed out my three cigarettes and waved down a taxi.

"The White Hart," I said to the cabbie and settled into the seat.

While he drove I considered this issue. I'd invited her to the teashop under the pretence of a case, but in reality I hadn't required any help at all. She presented an interesting case, that's for sure. Especially with this strange way I felt drawn to seek her company. Not for anything other than someone to talk at, but for some reason it's more rewarding than the skull.

I paid the driver and headed into the bar, scanning the room for her. The room was packed with young and overdressed people, jostling and dancing. I groaned inwardly, why must others be so intolerably dull and predictable?

My eyes found her sat at a table, looking flushed and laughing openly. I rested on the pillar next to me and regarded her. Her nose was scrunched in the middle of her face and she covered her mouth with her hand, an instant indicator of insecurity with something to do with what she was covering. The face should have been unattractive but I felt myself twitching into a smile.

The two men with her were drinking and laughing also, evidently at something the blonde woman who looked a little sour had done or said. The best friend's wife. I pinpointed the best friend, a short and pale man, with brown hair that fell in his eyes. He put an arm around his wife and she sighed then brightened. Jessica smiled and two others joined them. I watched for a few minutes and realised I wasn't wrong about the jealousy. Of course not, I'm never wrong. She's not jealous. So what in hell is it that made her storm off?

I pushed through the crush of people to the bar and ordered a whiskey for myself and a glass of wine for her, before making my way to the table they were at.

"Jessica, what a surprise to see you here," I moulded my face into a grin and placed the drink in front of her.

She looked up at me with wide eyes and I saw the surprise in her face… "Sherlock?"

"Just a drink to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I spoke out of turn about your father," I replied, choosing my words carefully to determine if that was what had upset her.

I saw her visibly tense when I mentioned her father and the best friend gave me a quick hard look before looking at her protectively.

"I don't think we've met," he said, offering his hand, "Eathan."

"Sherlock," I replied, shaking his hand firmly.

"I've heard a lot about you," he gave me a fake smile.

I stood to my full height, "All good I hope."

He raised his eyebrows a little and looked away toward his wife. So she's mentioned me to him.

"Thank you Sherlock, you didn't have to," Jessica said to cut the silence. Her cheeks were pink.

So it was the subject of her father that sent her out the door. Solved.

"Ok, well goodnight then." I closed a button on my jacket and stalked away from the group, leaving the bar.

_I looked up at Sherlock, just in time to catch his face change. Like a curtain falling, his cheery smile dropped and was replaced with his usual indifferent expression. He left and all I could do was watch after him, feeling at a loss as to a million things about Sherlock Holmes, not least the fact that he knew where I was._

_"Did you ask him to come here?" Lucy asked._

_I shook my head, "God no. I get the feeling Sherlock Holmes goes wherever he wants, invited or not."_

_Eathan looked right at me, "There's something off. I don't trust him, Jessie."_

_He must be serious if he's not calling me by our petnames, I thought as I ran a finger up the stem of the wine glass Sherlock had gotten for me. I realised then that my face was red hot with blushing. _


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: Hey guys, really pleased to see more followers and favourites! Would really love to see some reviews too...hint hint.**

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Christmas shopping, my favourite and least favourite thing in the world. Favourite because I love Christmas more than anything in the world, and least favourite because of the people everywhere. I wove through the crowd in Debenhams toward the costume jewelry for my mum. After almost coming to physical blows with a woman over a multi-coloured necklace, I left the shop triumphantly, but not before treating myself to some perfume, Bouquet by Vera Wang.

My text tone went off and I dug it out of my pocket, juggling my shopping bags.

"Should a shopping addict be walking around with that many bags? SH."

I looked around the shopping centre questioningly.

"That was a long time ago. How did you know where I am?" I sent back to Sherlock.

My phone beeped again, "Addiction never goes away. I'm in the security room, looking over their cctv. SH."

I shook my head incredulously and looked up at the closest camera, sticking my tongue out petulantly at it then walked away briskly.

"That was rude. SH."

"So is spying on someone." I replied before going into Lush for my grandmas present.

"Not spying on you, I'm looking for a man in a green coat with a limp. SH."

"In Sheffield? It's Christmas shopping anyway, an unavoidable dose of addiction. What do you know about addiction anyway?"

"Yes, I do leave London occasionally. Christmas shopping isn't optional? Enough. SH."

I frowned at that, enough? He didn't seem the type to have first hand knowledge. Other than the smoking. Oh, of course the smoking.

"I didn't think you went anywhere you couldn't access in a black cab. And yes, when you have a family as big as mine and friends who are all married and/or have children." I paid the girl and left with a paper bag filled with a couple of presents, one for her and one for me.

"I've never been Christmas shopping. SH."

I looked for the closest security camera, raising my eyebrows at it then realised how weird I must look to everyone. "You've never had to buy a present for a girlfriend?"

"That's never been an issue. SH."

I raised my eyebrows at the camera again, "Oh…or a boyfriend?"

His reply was all but instant, "Why would I have a boyfriend? SH"

"Because you said girlfriends had never been an issue, just wondered." I was blushing again. I hurried into a booze shop to find a nice brandy for my granddad.

"I'm not gay. I'm just not interested, I have no time for things like that. SH."

I perused the shelves before answering, "So you're married to your work."

"You could say that. SH."

The rest of the shopping trip went without incident, if you don't include the hundreds of people who crushed my toes by shoving past to get what they were after. I left MeadowHall and loaded the bags into my car. There are big shopping centres closer to home in London but no matter what I always go to MeadowHall for my Christmas shopping. It's tradition.

I drove back to London never really dipping below 90mph, speeding is a naughty habit I never could break, with the new Mr Hudson album playing loudly. My car just beeped to warn me it was on empty as I pulled into the garage under my house. Eurgh, that's only 50 miles left in the tank. My petrol tank and I are in a constant battle of wills, as Eathan describes it. I will force it to keep going, even though I have the money.

Dragging all the bags into the house I kicked off my boots and went upstairs to shower ready for the work Christmas party. After my shower I threw on some pyjamas while I did my makeup and my hair. With my eyes smokey and my hair curled loosely, I pulled on a one shoulder, navy blue dress in greek style with a braided cord under the bust, accentuating my large chest and falling loose over my not-very-small-waist.

My phone rang and I grabbed it, answering as I sprayed with hairspray.

"Whaddup babycakes?" I asked.

"Hey you, you gonna be ready to be picked up in fifteen minutes?" Eathans voice came back from me.

I thought about what else I needed to do, "Oh ok, yeah sure, see you then."

"See you soon dear."

I hung up then realised I had a text.

"So you should buy presents for friends then? SH."

"Yeah, close friends. You've never bought any of your friends presents?"

"I don't have friends, I have no need for them. SH."

"Everyone needs friends, Sherlock."

"I have my work. Speaking of which, have fun at your work Christmas party tonight. SH."

I almost asked how he knew, then realised it was Sherlock I was talking to. It occurred to me as I sprayed with my perfume that Sherlocks life was incredibly sad, not that he saw it that way. No friends. No romantic connections. Wow. A loud honking shocked me out of my thoughts and I dropped my phone, some lipgloss and other things into my handbag and strapped on my navy blue wedges. Pulling on some gold jewelry I hurried out of the door to jump into Eathan and Lucy's taxi.

Several hours, and glasses of wine, later I was feeling dizzy and giggly. Eathan and Lucy had gone home an hour or so ago and I was left with Joanne – a girl from the admin department and the guy she was getting off with, John I think… who couldn't seem to drag their lips apart for more than 5 minutes at a time. I groaned and stood up, swaying. I headed over to the doors and leaned on the column next to it, pulling my phone out to call a taxi.

"Holmes," a deep voice answered.

I screwed my eyes shut, "Sherlock?"

He sounded unimpressed, "Dr. Townshend you're drunk."

"I was trying to call a taxi…"I slurred back.

"Are you alone?" he asked.

"I'm outshide the party," I answered him.

_I held the phone to my ear and frowned, "Are you ok?"_

_Jessica sounded totally drunk when she replied, "Aww yeah I'm fiiiine. Merry Christmas Sherrrrrrlock!"_

_"Goodnight Jessica, call a taxi," I sighed and rubbed at my eyes as I stared at the report from Molly._

_"Don't let the bedbugs bite Sherlock!" she all but squealed back before the line went dead. _

_I left it half an hour before I text her again, "Did you get home ok? SH."_

_"I'M HOIOMM, you areed the modsrt annoygiung confusign man evrfy. Xxxxxxxx" was the reply I got. _

_ Satisfied that she was safe, I went back to my work._

_There's a reason I only drink small amounts of whisky and that's very rarely._


End file.
